The Moonlit Cliche
by Mahna Mahna
Summary: A Romantic Parody: Harry turns to one of his best friends for comfort when a nightmare comes.


Notes before we begin: 

1. I wrote this parody over a year ago, before the fifth book came out. Therefore, this takes place during Harry's fifth year. 

2. This is not meant to support or dis the Harry/Hermione ship. (Although I *was* once an avid H/H shipper).

3. This is a very *unserious* story, and should be taken as such.

4. No mosquitoes were harmed in the making of this fanfic.

The Moonlit Cliché

by Mahna Mahna

One night, Harry Potter woke up from a nightmare, screaming. I don't think I can give you a direct quote, but it went a little something like this....... 

"ARRRRRGGGHHHHH!!!!!! ARRRRRRGGGHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! STOPPPPPPP!!!! ARRRRRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!" 

He sat upright and clutched his throbbing forehead. He looked around his dormitory. Surprisingly, his insanely loud outburst didn't wake up any of his roommates. Immediately, instead of reporting to Dumbledore, Madam Pomfrey, or even Ron, he headed towards the 5th year girls' dormitory. When questioned later as to why he did this, he couldn't give an answer. He didn't know why. 

Do *you* want to know why? It's because *I* said so. So there. 

He rushed to his good friend, Hermione's, bed and shook her. 

" 'Ermione! Herm! Mione! Mio! Mi! Hermy- own- ninny! Wake up!" 

She didn't. 

'Maybe', he thought, ' I can scare her awake. ' 

"ARRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!" he screamed. 

No one in the room moved a muscle. 

' Wait a minute...' Harry thought. He bent over Hermione's bed and put one hand under her nose and another on her neck. ' Well, she's still breathing. And she's got a pulse.' All of a sudden, Harry got an idea. ' It worked in the fairy tales, and as long as I'm down here.....' He leaned closer and kissed her on the lips. 

Hermione's eyes flickered open. "Wha?" she said sleepily. 

Harry, blushing, sat up quickly and pointed towards the door. "Crookshanks did it. He just left." He said all this very fast. 

Hermione looked at him skeptically. "Oh... Crookshanks has bad morning breath." 

Harry blushed deeper and snuck a tic- tac into his mouth. This would have been a dead giveaway that he had done the deed, had it not been so pitch dark in the room. 

"What are you doing here?" 

"I had a bad dream." 

"Oh. Is it that one with all the clowns and the......" 

"No!" Harry interrupted. "And don't even mention that! It puts the idea out there....." He shuddered. "It was about........... (insert dun dun DUN music here) *that* night." 

"Harry you've lived through 5475 nights since you've been alive. How am I supposed to know which one you're talking about?" 

"It's the one with Voldemort." Every girl in the dorm winced unconsciously at the name. 

"Well...that narrows it down to about 4 now." 

"The most recent meeting with Voldemort." The girls winced again in their sleep. 

Her eyes widened. "Ohhhhhh! The meeting with Voldemort," (all the girls winced), "where I have no clue what happened." 

"Hmmm...." Harry said thoughtfully. "Maybe it's time I told you what happened that night with Voldemort," ( the girls winced), "and get it off my chest. You see.... Voldemort...." 

But that was as far as he got, for at that moment, about 4 pillows were thrown at him. "STOP SAYING THE NAME!" the 5th year girls cried. "WE'RE TIRED OF WINCING!" 

"Errr...." Harry said. "Maybe we should talk about this somewhere else." 

Hermione nodded. "Let's go into the common room." 

They traveled out the dorm's door, down the stairs, and headed towards the common room's sofa. 

"Let's sit here," Hermione said, pointing at the couch. They sat. "Now you can tell me about your horrible dream/experience and I can listen sympathetically while admiring how the moonlight and firelight dance across your handsome features." 

"What?" 

"Nothing." 

And so, there by the fire in the common room, Harry told his awful story, in all its horror, drama, and tragedy. When it was all over, Hermione sat there, wide-eyed and open mouthed. "Why didn't you tell me this before?" 

"Well, I really wasn't ready to talk about it and..." 

"Well why did you have to tell *me* *now*! Geez! Now *I'm* going to have nightmares!" She rambled on for a moment about how it was so rude of him to burden her with this information, when the sight of Harry swatting the air made her stop. "What on earth are you doing?" 

"There's a mosquito," Harry said. He swatted frustratedly at it and missed again. "It just won't die." He then appeared thoughtful. "You know, I'm kind of like this mosquito. We both have someone trying to kill us and we both just won't die..." he stopped suddenly. 

"Wait. If *I'm* the mosquito...... and I'm trying to kill it.... that makes me Voldemort! I'm Voldemort AND the mosquito!" By that time, all the analogies were really confusing him. He ended up swatting himself on the head several times before Hermione stopped him. 

"Honestly, Harry! Think! You are not a blood sucking parasite OR an evil overlord! You're just HARRY!" 

He calmed down considerably. "You're right. I guess I just got carried away by trying to portray my character as being deep." 

"Oh Harry," Hermione sighed. "I think you're dense even without the monologues." 

"I said 'deep', not 'dense' ." 

"Oh, well I think you're *that* too." They looked up into each other's eyes. 

Harry loved Hermione's eyes. They were a deep brown; the color of..... well... any brown food you can think of. 

Well, maybe not the color of peanuts. Those are more tan than brown. 

Not meat either. It's not very romantic to compare the color of a girl's eyes to beef. Or bran flakes. 

Tell you what, lets just say that her eyes were two brown circles with black dots in the middle. Okay? Okay. 

Hermione also loved Harry's eyes. They were like two ping-pong balls; each containing a pond of radioactive green algae. 

They leaned in and kissed quite expertly, despite the fact that neither of them had had any practice. Ever. 

When they broke apart, Hermione smiled and said, "I love you." 

Some teenage boys might freak out if a girl they hadn't even dated told them they loved them, but I think it's already been established that Harry wasn't normal. "I love you too," he said. "I've loved you since I first met you." 

Hermione frowned. "No you didn't! You thought I was a bossy know-it-all, and then you thought of me as just a friend!" 

"Yes, but it sounds better the other way." 

Hermione shrugged, and as she leaned in for another kiss, she realized he was right. When they had kids, that would have to be the story they told them. 

And they lived romantically ever after. 

The End 

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Wallace: "The question is, what _is_ a Mahna Mahna?"   
_Statler:_ "The question is, who cares?

-The Muppet Show (The Mahna Mahna Song)


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